The man rises above the myth

ALAMEDA - K.D. Williams wants us to know two things: that the sky-cap story is somewhat mythical and that he doesn't want us to know his full name.

"K.D.," is all he'll say, with a smile. "I won't tell anyone, not in the press."

This sounds odd coming from a guy who worked so hard to shed his anonymity. The TV cameras keep zeroing in on him the way he homes in on the ball. The commentators love to talk about Williams, the Raiders' linebacker who fell from the sky.

But only two weeks into his first season as an NFL starter, he's getting a little tired of the myth-making. Yes, he came to the Raiders from humble origins, as an undrafted 26-year-old who had played in the CFL, in Saskatchewan and Winnipeg. And yes, he worked as a sky cap at the Tampa airport during his offseasons. But no, the Raiders didn't find him there, at curbside check-in, pluck him out of workaday obscurity and then . . . voila, a star is born.

"I was playing football," Williams says, in mild protest. "I played in the CFL. I was a sky- 12 cap because it let me make some extra money, and it gave me flexible hours. I needed that so I could work out and take care of my son. But that wasn't my career. I was a football player."

But in the NFL, and to the networks that cover the league, no other professional football really counts. The CFL and the NFL's European subsidiary. that's all apprenticeship, a screen test for the big show. Never mind that Williams had a great career in the CFL. He might as well have been one of those waiters in Hollywood who work on their future Oscar acceptance speeches while Table No. 4's soup grows cold in the kitchen.

The NFL isn't all that different. It typecasts people, just like Hollywood. Little guys can't play quarterback. Undrafted players can't play at all.

But the Raiders have always thrived by picking up players with light or checkered resumes. Tyrone Wheatley's career is undergoing a renaissance in silver and black, his fourth team colors in the NFL. Williams, meanwhile, is discovering his own potential.

In just two games, he has made several big, ball-hawking plays. He returned a blocked field-goal attempt 23 yards in Sunday's win at Minnesota and also registered a sack. He, Greg Biekert and Richard Harvey may be one of the most dynamic linebacking units in the NFL this year. Biekert and Harvey, though, already had reputation. They had made their names. K.D. Williams hadn't even made his first initial.

Williams' arrival warmed at least one other heart. Deion Sanders sent flowers to the Raiders' training facility when final roster cuts were announced, and Williams had made the team. The two met when Williams tried out with the Dallas Cowboys last year and didn't survive their cuts. He was devastated, mad, confused. He thought he had proven himself in the preseason.

He went on to Kansas City and spent a couple of months on the practice squad before the Chiefs released him. In Kansas City, he befriended star Derrick Thomas, who took Williams in as a roommate, treated him like a family member. Thomas, Sanders and Williams all have Florida roots. "It's like we have a code of conduct when you meet another player from Florida," says Williams, who played his college ball at Henderson State in Arkansas. "We all have to look after each other."

Thomas bought plane tickets for Williams' parents and brought them into Kansas City for a game. But another member of the Chiefs' organization did even more for Williams. Woodrow Lowe, a coach, joined the Raiders as a defensive assistant this year and recommended Williams for a job.

Williams made an impression quickly. He arrived with a head full of dreadlocks and a body full of energy. "He was always the last one to leave (the practice facility) in minicamp," Gruden says. "We had to practically kick him out. I think he was spending the night here."

Williams still talks regularly with his sky-capping buddies down in Tampa. His uncle, who got him the job at the airport, told him that all sky caps have pitched in to order his games on DirectTV in their lounge at the airport.

Recently, Williams has changed a bit, shearing off the braids to signal a fresh start in his life. He has, according to Gruden, become better at playing in a scheme rather than simply going after the ball at every opportunity.

Williams hopes that the media will stop seeing him as a rags-to-riches story soon. He knows one player in the NFL who will take him very seriously: Doug Flutie, the Buffalo quarterback who spent years in the CFL, dismissed as too small for the big-time. They will meet Oct. 17 in Buffalo.

"I was runner-up to him for the MVP in the CFL (in '96)," Williams says. "I always had good games against him. I intercepted him every time we played, every time. Once, I got two interceptions off Flutie."

Two teammates walk by as Williams finishes his sentence.

"Are you bragging?" one says. The linebacker holds up his hands, protesting his innocence. "I was asked about it," he says, knowing how this sounds. He doesn't have to brag, not when he is on his way to becoming a mythical figure.&lt;